


hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect

by lapoubelle



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Lawyer!Clarke, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, bellamy has a slight kink for clarke wearing his clothes, clarke is oblivious to all the feelings but raven clears her right up, clarke isn't superstitious unless it comes to bellamy obvi, lawyer!bellamy, this is so fluffy i hate myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 16:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapoubelle/pseuds/lapoubelle
Summary: That’s the thing with their arrangement, never really knowing if the last time is the last time. A constant battle between cataloguing each touch just in case it’s the last time she’ll ever get to do it or simply living in the moment.or: Clarke wants more.





	hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i started writing this in july and i thought, "pfft who would read a NYE fic in july???" but i clearly overestimated my ability to consistently write so here i am actually posting it on new year's day, months later. 
> 
> anyway, title is from kiwi by harry styles aka the loml. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy all the gratuitous fluff!!

Coming into work on a Saturday really isn’t out of the norm. Clarke’s a second year junior associate in the London-based Kane Diyoza firm, she’s used to having strange work hours and grumbling about it. 

Raven’s already there. Her favourite resident IT genius who she probably owes four lives to given how many times Clarke has gone to her for help in wading through copious data files for multiple cases in the past year. With this case, especially, a computer hacking scheme to embezzle money from the company they represent. 

Raven gives a no-nonsense greeting, already nose-deep in a file in the centre of the conference table.

Clarke replies with a grunt. Swinging her bag onto the nearest open chair in the conference room Raven has commandeered to organize all the files for their case work. 

She listens to Raven explain the organized mess on the conference table, taking note of the folders she wants to open first and delve into as she’s settling in, removing her coat and shaking the snow from her hair. 

“From this stack onward, they’re all organized by date and the initial four lines of code markers. I know you wanted to—”

Clarke looks up from the file she was holding when Raven stops abruptly. Raising her eyebrows, she says, “What?”

The only reply she gets is a smirk and a slight shake in the head before Raven continues on with her explanation. 

Clarke shakes her head too, taking a sip of her coffee after sitting down and sighing at the ridiculous amount of paper work they have to get through. She makes a mental note that she definitely needs more coffee. And probably one for Raven too, she owes her. 

 

It’s just past three in the afternoon when the rhythm that settled between the two breaks. Between Clarke’s soft steps, reading paper after paper while burning a trail on the carpet—she’s never been one to sit still for too long—and Raven’s occasional pen clicks when she gets too caught up in a code, they had a good thing going since they got back into it after taking a lunch break. 

Then they hear the ding of the elevator. Normally a sound they wouldn’t hear from this conference room, drowned out by the sounds of everyday office chatter and noise. 

After a few seconds where they confirm that whoever the guest is, they are clearly not in the business of interrupting Raven and Clarke's work, the pair go back to their respective papers, half listening to the person make their way from the elevator and into one of the offices down the hall. 

They’ve all but forgotten about the interloper as soon they figured it was another associate just coming in to get some work done. No judgement. Clarke’s been in this industry long enough that she knows some people are workaholics. 

Until of course that same interloper comes up and knocks on their open door. At the entrance is none other than Bellamy Blake, Clarke’s not-so-favourite fellow associate. 

Bellamy is a fourth year associate, on track to making partner and generally well admired and respected in the firm. He’s known for clever arguments and seemingly ruthless attacks. He can schmooze his way into any opportunity and out of any real repercussions when he doesn’t strictly follow their managing partner’s orders. In the corporate landscape full of greed and deceit that make up London’s top money makers, Bellamy somehow created a niche for himself, tackling almost a quarter of their entire firm’s pro bono cases all on his own. He’s good. He’s a good lawyer and much to Clarke’s annoyance, a good person. 

“Blake.” 

“Griffin.”

His mouth twitches and there’s a glint in his eyes as he looks her up and down. His stare makes Clarke want to stand on her toes and feel like her chest is suddenly too tight. 

Clarke would also begrudgingly admit that Bellamy is hot. Not that it’s a significant point or anything. He’s just a hot person. It’s a fact. Just like it’s a fact that he’s a good person and that Clarke would climb him like a tree. 

Raven clears her throat. “What are you doing here on a weekend, Blake?” 

“I was just picking up a case file to work on over the break. Not all of us are geniuses who can memorize shit, Reyes.”

Raven shoots him a grin and a not-so humble shrug. 

Clarke snorts. “Working during the break without a heavy-handed hint from Diyoza, Bellamy? Give us a break from having to catch up to you in her good graces.”

“I can’t help something that comes naturally.” 

“Ah yes, just one of your many hidden talents.”

“I think you of all people, Clarke, are aware of how talented I am.” Bellamy winks. 

Clarke bites her lip. She can hear Raven masking a laugh with a cough, but all she can look at is Bellamy. She widens her eyes and Bellamy sends her a challenging look. She feels her cheeks heating up at the implied suggestion and she really can’t bring herself to come up with something worth saying to that. 

Raven swings back around in her chair, facing the table again. “Great conversation here, but I’d really love to continue working so Clarke and I can get out of here.” 

Clarke makes a mental note to add a scone to the coffee order she’s going to place for Raven because she owes her way more than just a coffee now. 

Bellamy nods. “See you both at the bar tonight then?”

Raven replies her agreement and Bellamy looks back to Clarke with a raised brow. She gives a nod. His eyes linger on her a little longer after she’s broken eye contact. She can feel him roaming her figure, leaving her feeling naked. 

She definitely doesn’t watch him walk away. 

(She definitely does.)

“So. You and Blake, huh?” 

Clarke whips her head back to Raven. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve always wondered if you two were sleeping together. I just got my answer.”

Clarke’s jaw drops. “Why did you think that?”

Raven finally looks up from the paper she’s reading and looks Clarke up and down. “You’re wearing his lucky favourite shirt.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. Looking quickly down at her person, she saw the very same white button down that Bellamy was wearing last night when he came over her apartment and subsequently slept over after a very good night together. A _very_ good night, if Clarke does say so for herself. Bellamy did indeed get lucky. The shirt strikes again. 

Last night the shirt hugged Bellamy’s lean, muscular chest and shoulders really, really well. She remembers tugging on the collar, pulling Bellamy’s face to hers for the first time that night. Slipping a hand underneath to clutch at his shoulders while he carved out her jaw with his lips. Untucking it from his slacks with one hand while the other worked at the buttons and he’s got his fingers playing with the clasp at her back. Today she’s got it loosely tucked into a pair of skinny jeans, the sleeves messily folded up just before her elbows, and the first two buttons undone. She looks cute. She just happens to also look cute while wearing Bellamy’s shirt. She thinks back to the dangerous glint in Bellamy’s eyes when he saw her today and puts the pieces together. 

Clarke narrows her eyes. “We’re not together. Like not _together-together_.”

Raven sighs. Takes a hard look at the paper she’s been reading for the past ten minutes, then puts it down and pushes it away. “What?”

Clarke shrugs. “Bellamy and I. We’re not dating. We’re just sleeping together. That’s it.”

Raven raises an eyebrow. It’s always irritated Clarke that she never learned how to do that. “You two seriously need to get your shit together.”

Yeah. They do. Clarke adds another mental note: make the coffee an extra large, Raven deserves it for her troubles. 

 

The bar is busy. It’s New Year’s Eve with an hour left until midnight. She and Raven only got in half an hour ago after finally calling it a night. 

Jasper is trying to pull Monty who is trying to pull Clarke into the dance floor when Clarke spots Bellamy over Jasper’s shoulder. She saw him earlier when she first came in, catching a glance at his figure crowded in at the table their fellow associates have claimed. But he was busy talking to Monty and Raven was tugging on her elbow to get drinks. This time though he turns his head just at the right time and makes direct eye contact with her and holds it. He angles his head towards the door and she gives a slight nod. 

They both make their way to the door, pushing through bodies and likely stepping on some people’s feet. 

It’s hot inside, the conversations loud and the music even louder. But in the cool winter air, Clarke sees her breath as she wraps her arms around herself. 

“It’s too loud in there.”

Clarke smiles. Of all things Bellamy is in this world, her favourite is how soft he is. Quiet and contemplating, observant and studying. His life has always been at the very edge, feeling the harsh extremes of everything. So when he can, when he thinks no one else is watching, he’s soft. 

He stands next to her, his shoulder bumping into hers as she feels his arm moving back and forth as he tries to warm his hands in his pockets. He really doesn’t need to, Bellamy’s always warm. He’s like a furnace; she loves to press her nose against his shoulder in the middle of night, slotting her feet between his shins, trying to share his warmth. 

She feels the testament to that when he places his fingers at her nape, tugging on the slip of the collar of her (his) shirt that peeks out from underneath her coat. 

“I like your shirt.”

“It’s yours.”

He hums, pulling his hand back. “You can keep it. It looks better on you, anyway.”

That pulls a laugh out of Clarke. “Such a cliché line.”

He grins, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, tucking her into the crook of his arms. Her laugh is smothered by his chest and she lays her cheek down, hearing the soft, steady thrum of his heart and feeling the warmth seep through all the layers he’s wearing onto her own skin. 

“I looked around your entire apartment for that shirt by the way. Next time, tell me you’re going to wear it out before you leave me shirtless and asleep in your bed.”

The idea that there is a next time makes her chest tight and she breathes him in, feeling his arms tighten around her. That’s the thing with their arrangement; never really knowing if the last time is the last time. A constant battle between cataloguing each touch just in case it’s the last time she’ll ever get to do it or simply living in the moment. 

“I’ll leave a note next time.”

“It’s the least you could do.”

 

The first time Bellamy and Clarke slept together it wasn’t her fault. Technically. 

She won her first major solo case, making a rich CEO even richer. It’s a case she’s been working on for the first eight months of her career, so sue her, she wants to get drunk on tequila. Actually, don’t sue her. She’s a pretty good lawyer. 

The bar, as usual, was loud and noisy. But with the buzz of tequila in her veins and the adrenaline still coursing through her body, Clarke felt untouchable. That’s exactly why she walked straight up to Bellamy Blake sitting a table away from her friends. 

He looked up as soon as she set her path towards him, meeting her eyes with something dangerous in his. His loose grin and the way his hair flops around his eyes indicates that he’s probably just as inebriated as she is. 

(Clarke thinks he spends sixty percent of his day pushing those curls out of his eyes.) 

“I heard you won the Eligius case, Griffin.” 

Something about tequila just makes all her filters disappear. It’s never been a problem until now, around Bellamy Blake. “I guess you better watch out. Gonna give you a run for your money, Blake.”

“I’m counting on it.”

An hour later, his hand was warm inside the both of hers as she walked backwards, tugging his laughing form out of the bar and into the warm spring night. 

It’s not raining, for once, she noted. 

There was, however, a slight breeze. She saw it ruffle Bellamy’s curls, pushing it off his forehead. They made eye contact, his eyes bright, more open than she’s ever seen them before. 

She stopped walking. Her hands travelled up his arm, crinkling the fabric of his white button down as she goes. Grasping his shoulders, she took a step closer. Closer. Closer. 

No space between them exists when she finally pulled him down. The feel of his lips against her sent a thrill down her spine, the tips of her fingers were buzzing as they explore new lands on his shoulder. 

The rest of the night was gone for her after that. 

The next morning, she rolled over in bed and found she can’t go any further. She heard a grunt. Fluttering her eyes open, she’s met with a crinkly, stark white shirt blocking her way.

The figure rolled over and it’s none other than Bellamy Blake. 

“What the fuck.”

He snorted. “Good morning to you too.”

Clarke looked down on herself, noting the scratchy neckline of the sweater she wore the night before. 

“We didn’t . . . ?”

She felt him shift, the sound of his back hitting the headboard. “Nope.”

Clarke looked out the window, watching the rain from between the blinds. “That’s unfortunate.”

He stiffened. Gathering the courage, she looked over and he’s already watching her. Clarke recognized this moment as the now or never.

Breaking eye contact, she pulled herself up and plopped herself on his lap. 

Apparently, even without the liquid courage of tequila inside her and in the revealing morning light streaming from the window, she still can’t stay away from Bellamy Blake. 

“We’re doing this?” he asked, voice rough and low, the hands on her hips were a tell-all. 

She nodded, wrapping a hand around his nape, the other working on the buttons of his shirt as they both lean in. 

So yeah. Technically not her fault. If anything, she and Bellamy were both in complete agreement with this decision. 

 

But now it’s New Year’s Eve. She and Bellamy are still fucking and life is still good. Clarke is happy. 

Screw Raven for making her think she needs more. 

Bellamy hasn’t left her side since they went back into the bar. The feeling of his arm brushing against hers as he animatedly talks to Monty is familiar and intimate. Spending the rest of the night with Bellamy next to her feels dangerous. She knows what people see when they see them together. A unit. A couple who came together and will leave together at the end of the night. It feels like a promise, much like the first time she kissed him. 

Tonight she wants to keep her mind clear, opting instead to sip slowly on a fruity cocktail than knocking back shots of Tequila with Raven and Jasper. 

Bellamy knocks his wrist against hers. “You good?”

Clarke smiles. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Raven’s calling Clarke. She squeezes Bellamy’s arm before nodding in Raven’s direction. His eyes flick over to Monty, whom he’s still talking to. Clarke nods in understanding. He shoots her a smile and mouths, _I’ll find you_. 

She finds Raven and slips into the booth across from her. 

Somewhere in the background, she hears Jasper yell out the ten minute warning ‘til midnight. 

She raises her eyebrows, sending a pointed look at the six empty shot glasses on the table. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d be afraid you’re two sheets to the wind by now.”

Raven ignores the comment. “The whole sticking together at a party thing doesn’t really scream _we’re just fuck buddies_ to me.”

“It’s different.”

“How so?”

“I like him. He doesn’t feel the same.”

Raven’s silent for a bit. Scrutinizing her with furrowed brows. “Clarke. You see everything. You can’t tell me you don’t see how Bellamy looks at you.”

“I don’t—”

“I’m telling you this because I love you and I want what’s best for you. Bellamy looks at you like you’re the answer to his all his problems. Do something about it.” Raven nudges her shoulder against hers. “Now tell me that that guy over there is cute because I really want to make out with him.” 

Clarke looks in the direction Raven’s looking. Spotting Zeke Shaw, a guy from Raven’s department, sitting by the bar. “Shoot your shot.”

“Right back at you, babe.” 

She stays seated at the table, fiddling with one of the empty shot glasses left behind when she hears Jasper’s shouts break through the music. 

He’s just finishing _ten_ when she gets the sudden urge to find Bellamy. Standing quickly, she barely registers the sound of glass hit the wooden table. She’s swivelling her head around like a crazy person, she knows. But the itch to locate Bellamy and be by his side is strong and something she can’t explain. 

Clarke’s never been the one to believe in superstitions. The idea of a New Year’s Kiss means nothing to her. When she was eleven, her grandmother once told her that if she saw a black cat she should stay away from it because it brings bad luck. Or that if she wished on a shooting star, her wish could come true. She told Wells about it the next day with the arrogance that only an eleven year old who thought they were wiser than really were could possess, ready to hear his scoff. Instead, he had said, “Why not? If you really want something and you would do anything to get it, believing some make-believe fairy tale can’t hurt right?” 

Maybe Wells was right. 

When Jasper’s at _seven_ she finally locks eyes with Bellamy. He’s alone, the way his shoulders are set makes it look like he’s also pushing through the crowd, looking. Maybe she’s not the only one who needs to be with someone too. Maybe she’s not the only one who wants a specific someone.

Maybe she’s not getting her heart broken tonight.

She starts making her way to him at the same time he starts walking towards her.

She reaches him when Jasper’s at _four_. His arms are reaching for her, closing the foot of space between them. She clutches at his shoulder while another hand rests on his heart.

“Hey."

She opens her mouth to reply but any word that she could have said aloud would have been drowned out by the sound of cheering around them, lost in the raucous excitement and joy of a new year. She feels the loss of heat from Bellamy’s palm at her hip, only to find it at her jaw, angling her face towards him. The hand she has resting on his heart makes a fist with his shirt, finally pulling his lips to hers.

 _One_.

The kiss is urgent, like they’re trying to say too many words at once. The urgency is dampened by the slow pace of his thumb at her jaw, softening the pull of his lips.

The world around them is a cacophony of cheers and claps, welcoming the new year with a bang. But all that matters is the press of Bellamy against her, his solid presence like a buoy keeping her afloat and stagnant in the sea of partygoers.

_I want to keep you in the new year. I want to keep you forever._

__In retrospect, she probably should have known. The first time she woke up with his bare arm banded across her stomach, his slow breaths warming her collarbone, she merely placed her hand on the very same arm, pulling herself closer before closing her eyes once again and succumbing to the peaceful haze of the early morning light._ _

__He had asked her to stay the night—well, in a way that only Bellamy Blake could, nonchalant but with a hint of trepidation in his tone that didn’t belong in their post-coital cocoon. It wasn’t even posed as a question, but a mere, “You could stay. If you want.”_ _

__She did. She wanted so badly._ _

__So she stayed._ _

__She ended up staying the whole day with him. After an admittedly awkward process of untangling limbs and figuring out how to share his cramped bathroom, Bellamy made breakfast and they ended up finishing season five of The Office together on his shitty couch. And then while scrolling through her phone halfway into season six, Clarke got an e-mail reminder from their local art gallery that today was the last day for the exhibit she’s been planning to see. Bellamy readily agreed in accompanying her, and next thing she knew they were strolling through the gallery, perusing paintings upon paintings. They had dinner at some random café in Trafalgar Square and it was decidedly the best non-date Clarke’s ever been on._ _

__Or maybe it was a date. He walked her home and kissed her on the cheek after bidding her good night._ _

__Whatever._ _

__The problem with that was how it kept happening. Lusty nights gave way to soft mornings spent in languor and laziness. Sometimes they would watch documentaries on the couch or sometimes they would traverse the outdoors and introduce the other to their favourite spots in the city. She knows Bellamy’s favourite bookstore is the one down the street from their office building, and when Clarke sends Bellamy out on coffee runs he knows exactly to get her favourite drink from the café just around the corner from her flat._ _

__Bellamy pulls away from their kiss first, eyes bright and a small smile already forming on his lips as the rest of the world comes back to them. The thunderous beat of the celebrating crowd wracks through her again. Through it all, she feels Bellamy’s arm around her waist, keeping her against his chest and grounding her in the midst of the jostling crowd._ _

__She wants to tell him how badly she means it. That everything she tried to convey in their kiss was true._ _

__But the rest of the world doesn’t always comply, no matter how hard Clarke wishes it to. Jasper sweeps them up in a weird, drunken dance off where the only willing participants were Jasper and Monty. Leaving Clarke to call for a lyft while Bellamy tries to get as much water and food in their system in the meantime._ _

__After having dropping off Jasper and Monty and checking in on Raven (who is still with Shaw), Clarke followed Bellamy to his apartment._ _

__She’s watching him shrug off his coat while toeing his shoes off, the familiar sound of the hallway closet closing makes Clarke ache. She wants this. So badly. She wants to come home with Bellamy, she wants to go home to Bellamy. She wants to be sitting on the couch or lounging on the bed and hear him come home. She wants to be the one who hears about his day, all his good ones and his bad ones. She wants the sound of his life to be her background noise, constant and comforting. She wants a life with him._ _

__“I’m kind of a control freak.”_ _

__Bellamy turns, eyebrows raised. “I know.”_ _

__“Hear me out here.” She sweeps her eyes over the apartment, eyes catching on the throw thrown over the couch, the amount of times she’s sought comfort by burying herself in that blanket is more than she can count. She wishes she could wrap herself around it right now. “I’m a planner. Everything going on in my life, I plan. I’m afraid of surprises and last minute, life-altering decisions because I never know if I made the right decision—do you believe in superstitions?”_ _

__Bellamy cocks his head, considering her and the sudden change of topic. “Sometimes.”_ _

__“I don’t. I don’t let myself believe in them because I’m afraid of the spontaneity of it all. I can’t avoid black cats forever, but I also don’t want bad luck. I can’t help it if I see one, so I lose that control. And when I want something, I can’t make a shooting star appear across the night sky at will just so I could wish on it. I don’t have that control.” She takes a deep breath. “But tonight—tonight, I let myself believe it. Just for a bit. Just when I kissed you at midnight. I let myself believe that if I kiss you then I am allowed the privilege of kissing you more in the new year. That some mystical force that I never believed in will grant me this one thing that I want so badly.”_ _

__Bellamy’s tense shoulders sag, his terse expression gives way to a mix of relief and something else Clarke can’t name but it’s enough to get her to continue._ _

__“What I’m really trying to get here is that I want more. I want more than wondering if the last time I kissed you is the last time I’ll ever get to. I want it all, Bellamy.”_ _

__He opens his mouth, then closes it. He goes through the routine again. The third time he opens his mouth, a laugh comes out. “Thank God.”_ _

__His long strides carry him to her in less than a second. He cups her jaw with one hand while another pulls her against his chest. The chaste kiss that follows feels like a promise. “Clarke, you can have all the kisses that you want.” His eyes shine with mirth._ _

__“I want more than just kissing you, you idiot. I want you.”_ _

__His arm tightens around her a fraction. “You’ve always had me. I’m so fucking in love with you, it’s ridiculous. If you want me, you have me. You don’t need to wish on a shooting star or kiss me when the clock strikes midnight to convince the gods to give you my love, because it’s already yours. You have me.”_ _

__Nuzzling his jaw, she smiles contentedly. “It was worth a shot.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> oof thank you for reading <3
> 
> find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/blakegrffns).


End file.
